


Twenty Years

by pinkbubblesgo (lavatorylovemachine)



Series: Jukebox Stories [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Male Friendship, Musicians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavatorylovemachine/pseuds/pinkbubblesgo
Summary: An album's recording is stopped by an escape.





	

Max squatted at the edge of the roof, the night winter breeze freezing his face and going up his nostrils. He closed his eyes and memories of his mother came to him. She was always young and lively in those mental homemade movies, but now Max was seeing a different, fairly recent picture of her: an older woman, scared, crying, alone. He then recalled her gleeful voice over the phone that morning. "It's a boy, Max, it's a boy! Aren't you happy for me?" Her question was met with total silence but she kept talking. "You don't understand what we have, sweetie. Your father loves me, we're going to make it work."

But the man that gave Max his last name wasn't his father. His father had died before he even learned to walk.

The images changed and now it was Ian who came into Max's memories. They were both about nine or ten years old, sticking their little noses against the glass of the local music shop. Ian had already made his choice, pointing his finger at a Les Paul. Max's eyes wandered around all the guitars and bass guitars in front of them, but none sparked his interest. He told Ian he wanted to sing and expected him to laugh, but he was met with enthusiasm. "Then we already have a band," Ian had said. Ah, the joys of childhood, adult Max thought.

All of a sudden he found himself smiling. He opened his eyes.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"

Ian's footsteps came closer and closer, and, despite being much skinnier than Alex, he grabbed him from behind and put him on the ground.

"What was that for?" Max complained, leaning on his hands.

"You were going to jump!" Ian shouted. His eyes pulsated and his voice trembled. "And don't fucking look at me like that 'cause I know you were!"

Max looked away. "I came here to think."

"On the edge of the roof?" Ian let out a harsh chuckle. "How many times have you done this this year, Max?"

"Do what?" Max said, his mind still partly lost in memories.

"Sneaking out. Making us think you're missing or dead." As he talked, Max looked at him and then turned his head the other way. "Remember the day before the Illinois show, when you tried to..." Ian smiled bitterly and huffed. "Jump from the bus in motion?"

"But I didn't, did I?"

"Only because of our guards! I'm just..." Ian pushed his long hair back with his fingers and looked the other way, a sigh replacing what he was going to say.

Max peered at his friend: the old and new tattoos covering his arms, the blue denim vest and unnecessary pitch black sunglasses. He hadn't changed a bit.

"I'm gonna finish recording my parts," Max said. "I really will."

"I know you will. That doesn't worry me, fuckface..." They chuckled. "How long have we been friends?"

"Twenty years... "

"Twenty years and you think all this shit doesn't worry me? I don't wanna have to drive you to the hospital one day or... or attend your fucking funeral." Ian's last phrase had come out shakier than he intended to, and the images of his own words coming true made his breathing difficult.

Max looked up at Ian, who saw remorse and candidness in the other's eyes for the first time in years.

"... I'm sorry," Max said. "I'm just... I just don't know why all the crap I went through is coming back to mess with me. Sometimes I can't stop thinking about it, no matter how hard I try not to."

Ian gazed at his friend. Only the two of them knew about Max's childhood, not even the other band members did, so naturally, they worried and thought Max was clinically insane for no reason. Ian wished he could do something to soothe that messy head just a little... He remembered when they were younger, when problems were like a gum stuck in one's shoes. You could take it out and continue your own way. Now, now it was different.

"You could try meds again," Ian said. "It did you good last time..."

"Nah, I hate that shit. Either I'm forgetting the lyrics on stage or I can't take a shit for a week. Just give me whiskey and I'll be fine."

Ian chuckled. "Classic..."

They stayed quiet for a moment, neither of them looking at each other anymore. Then Max spoke:

"My mom is pregnant."

"What? With Don again?"

Max nodded. "She called me this morning..." He made a pause and his eyes met with Ian's again. "Shirley's pregnant too."

"Shit..."

"I don't want to be a fucking father, man. I'm gonna be as much of a bastard as my old man was, I just know it."

"You don't know that", Ian assured his friend. "Nobody knows for sure how we're gonna turn out." 

Ian wanted to walk closer to Max, pat his back, tell him it was all going to work out and that he was a better man than his father; but what escaped his lips was a question about abortion.

"Nah, she wants to keep it," Max answered. "What can you do?"

"I thought she was a liberal."

"She is, but she thinks the baby will fix our relationship", Max laughed coldly. "Like that would work."

Ian had seen them arguing more times than he saw them kissing or hugging. That added to Shirley's higher and higher standards for Max, her jealousy scenes... Ian wondered how come Max hadn't stayed with Stacey, the better girl in the long run.

"So you're staying with her?" Ian asked.

"I might, I might not. I just don't wanna think about this shit right now. I'll just focus on the album."

"You sure? You've been late everyday and you can't stand John."

Max laughed. "Who can?"

Ian shrugged before saying, "He's the best mixer around."

"He can bite me".

They stayed quiet until Max voiced out what he was thinking about:

"I need to be recording or writing. Otherwise I'll kill myself, I swear to God."

"Would you stop saying shit like that?" Ian said, much louder than he had intended to. "It worries us all, it worries me". There was a pressure on his chest that made it difficult to breathe.

Max said nothing, but Ian could tell, because behind the tough guy facade Max had been his friend for twenty years and only he could tell, that Max's eyes were wetter.

"You wouldn't do it anyway," Ian said, changing his tone to a more mellow one, "remember the blood pact we made when we were kids?"

Max looked up to Ian. "Brothers forever?"

Ian smiled slightly. "Brothers forever," he repeated. "You wouldn't break the pact, would you?"

Max sniffed and tried a slight smile. "I wouldn't".

Calmer, Ian mirrored that smile and rubbed his arms before speaking. "Let's go back inside. It's cold."

Max raised an eyebrow as he got up and started walking along his friend. "You're the weather man now? I always dress like this and I'm never cold", he said, looking down at his low-cut tank top and shorts.

Max reached the door that lead to the staircase first and Ian followed behind. When Max had twisted the knob he felt Ian putting his jacket on him.

"Dude, what..." Max turned around and found his friend shivering and chuckling at the same time, if that was possible.

"Consider it a payback for the time you stopped me from catching the chicken pox."

"It was good in the long run..." Max said, remembering. "Half our fanbase are girls because you don't have scars all over your face."

"And I can never come close to someone with the chicken pox again," Ian said.

"Fuck off, Ian."

They chuckled.

"Let's go," Max said. He opened the door and started going downstairs.


End file.
